Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Darcy’s thoughts kept returning to that single tear on Elizabeth’s cheek three days earlier.
He thought they had been sharing an intimate moment of the type he had tried to avoid all month, but she had cried.
Why? Was it relief for her cousin that Bingley could be trusted?
She had not appeared happy at the close of their conversation, though, and had only feigned good humor for the remainder of the evening.
Was the tear caused by embarrassment at having essentially admitted to overhearing Bingley’s unguarded words in the first place?
But she had appeared sad, and he still did not understand why.
All he could do now was work to put and keep the smiles on Elizabeth’s face.
He took a last look in the mirror, his valet having declared him ready for the evening.
How he longed to propose to Elizabeth, so he could be privy to all her thoughts.
He would have the right to wipe away any tears and to learn how to prevent them in future.
He wished to be the man to make her laugh each day, not see her every few days when he must pretend nonchalance.
Before their evening at Vauxhall Gardens and as they strolled with linked arms, he felt all was as it should be.
He had not been able to have her included in the excursion when she had been sixteen, but three years later, he felt it was right he should be the one to introduce her to the place.
It had not ended as well as hoped, but he still was glad he had been the man with her that evening.
He wanted to share every London experience with her that she had not already had.
She had lived here for four years and had seen so little of what the city had to offer.
In the name of friendship, he had already opened some of this world to her, but he intended to show her more now that other young ladies would join her.
As Richard had said, his presence near Elizabeth would be overlooked more in a group setting, and he intended to suggest several venues he thought she would appreciate.
She had told him that her cousin and the Bingleys did little more during the Season than attend balls, card parties, and musicales.
She did not care for the same society they did, and although they had not discussed it at the time, he suspected he knew why.
The rumors about her were surely more pronounced among the ton than among the tradesmen.
Tonight would take them to an event typical of the social Season, though.
A ball near Grosvenor Square. Bingley had sent Hurst’s carriage for Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, and their aunt.
It was not an elite ball but would be attended by a mix of people ranging from wealthy tradesmen to young peers who liked to mix with the near-gentility.
Darcy was not looking forward to seeing Miss Bingley again after so many months, but as long as he was allowed to dance with Elizabeth and stay near her for most of the night, he would tolerate other distractions, evidenced by his traveling even now in his carriage to the Hurst home to deliver in style the Bingleys and Hursts to the ball not two blocks from their home.
“Lizzy, you look radiant. Are you anticipating dancing with a particular suitor tonight?”
“Of course not, Jane.” Elizabeth was grateful for the dimness of the carriage so her cousin would not see her blush.
Mr. Darcy was far from being her suitor, but she was hoping he might ask her to dance as a friend, and she had dressed with particular care this evening.
“Jane, I have been meaning to tell you…thank you for not shunning me—”
“I am so sorry, Lizzy. I should never have—”
“Jane, Jane. That is all in the past. I only wish you to know I appreciate your standing by me now.”
“I hope I always will, Lizzy.”
“Yet I understand if you find you cannot.”
“Surely—”
“Oh, Lizzy.” Aunt Gardiner knew of Elizabeth’s troubles in society and always allowed her to go out or stay home as she chose, but her optimism was greater than her niece’s. Elizabeth glanced between her aunt and cousin.
“You will witness unkindnesses tonight, Jane. If they are directed only at me as before, I will accept your standing beside me. But if the ton turns on you and Mr. Bingley, I will not blame you for distancing yourselves from me.”
“Why should you think the gossip will get worse, Lizzy?”
“I pray it will not, Aunt, but you must both know I will understand if it becomes too much to be seen with me in public, and I will retreat to protect your reputations.”
She and Mr. Darcy had not been anywhere more public than an ill-attended art museum since Vauxhall, but she feared his standing could be harmed if they stood up together tonight.
Her aunt and cousin quickly assured her of their love and support; she had done what she could for now. She would revisit this conversation again if it became necessary.
When they finally reached Mrs. Turling’s townhouse and greeted their hostess, Elizabeth’s excitement grew, pushing out much of her apprehension.
This same lady’s ball had been rejected by the Bingleys years before when they had instead chosen to go to Vauxhall Gardens.
Elizabeth felt the significance of being included in invitations to both venues this year.
Mrs. Turling’s home was well-lit and filled with ladies and gentlemen young and old.
When Jane spotted Mr. Bingley in the third room they crossed through, Aunt told them she saw some of her own friends and that she would catch up with them soon.
The dancing had already begun, and Mrs. Hurst, who stood with her brother, pointed out her sister dancing with Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth ignored the pang in her chest, as she had expected he would dance with many beautiful, wealthy women tonight.
The set soon ended, and the pair approached. At the same time, a gentleman older than Uncle Bennet came to bow over Miss Bingley’s hand and whisk her away for the next set.
“That is Sir Abraham Topplewight.” Mrs. Hurst smugly informed the group. “He was at the house party and has already proposed to Caro, but she is still considering another proposal.”
“Two proposals, Louisa? Caroline wrote to me of Sir Abraham, but who is the other?” Jane looked toward the older man entering the dance. He was well-dressed if a touch on the portly side and several inches shorter than Miss Bingley, but he still had most of his hair.
“Mr. Hillyerd proposed first. He is only a tradesman, but he has two thousand pounds per annum and lives in London year-round, which Caro has always wanted. We went to his townhouse near Portman Square this morning, and she was charmed by his situation.”
Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, remembering that his sister now lived in the same area. He nodded, as though knowing exactly what she was thinking.
“And what is Sir Abraham Topplewight’s situation? Caroline wrote only that he is a baronet. Is he a widower?”
“He has never married. His older brother died last year, and he inherited the baronetcy and an income twice Mr. Hillyerd’s.”
“Does Caroline care for them both, then?”
“Dear Jane, you know Caro has never gone in for sentimentality. Mr. Hillyerd’s fortune is smaller, but he is only two-and-thirty and lives in London.
Sir Abraham would make her Lady Topplewight and wealthy but would hide her away in Durham, as he rarely comes to London.
He had been a physician near his brother’s estate and is content to remain in the north forever. ”
“Perhaps we could discuss this another time, with Caro even. Jane, will you not dance with me now? I have not had the pleasure since the fifth of January.”
Jane willingly allowed her betrothed to lead her toward the dancers.
“Oh! Excuse me, but I must go speak with Miss Harcombe just there!”
Elizabeth would have laughed at Mrs. Hurst’s exit, which reminded her of an excited squirrel, had she not remembered meeting Miss Harcombe moments before Mr. Wickham.
“What is it, Miss Elizabeth? Are you well?”
“Very well, sir. It is only that Miss Bingley introduced me to two people last December, and seeing Miss Harcombe reminded me of the other, less-savory acquaintance.”
“I am sorry to hear it. I would ask you to dance in an attempt to cheer you, but I had hoped you would honor me with the supper set instead.” He gave her a teasing smile, but his eyes were serious.
She regained her brief loss of spirits.
“I approve of your plan, sir. Perhaps I should find my aunt now while you dance with another.”
Darcy groaned weakly, and she laughed.
“Surely you mean to dance more than two sets this evening.”
“I suppose I should. We would not wish to incite gossip, after all.”
No, they would not. She turned to locate her aunt and to hide her expression from Mr. Darcy. She had heard nothing against her yet, but in her experience, it was only a matter of time.
“Oh, there is my aunt, and now you must go dance.”
“I will greet your aunt first, if you do not mind.”
“Very well. She will welcome you, even if I see it as a delay tactic.”
They were both laughing softly when they reached her aunt.
Darcy did not know many people at the ball this evening, it being below his usual sphere. Still, he found a couple of men he knew well enough to ask one’s wife and another’s daughter to dance. It would please Elizabeth and draw attention from his feelings for her.
The whole time, though, he was seeking her in the crowd. She danced with a young soldier and then a man of about forty. Her movements were light and graceful, and he was enchanted by her beauty. He found it difficult to keep his attention on his partners enough for politeness.
Finally, it was his turn to take her to the dance floor.
They had first danced two years previously, and although he acted as only a friend, his heart had been lost. Unfortunately, the next day his head had destroyed everything they had built to that point.
A year later, he had been unable to withstand her pull and they danced again.
He had been jealous, and she had been angry.
That memory was tainted, but she had been more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
Tonight, though, she was perfection itself, and he fought a constant battle to appear only friendly.
He caught himself gazing on her face more than once but was able to wrench his eyes away to pretend a search for Bingley, who was dancing again with Miss Bennet.
Oh, to be engaged and to have the privilege of more than one set with the woman he loved.
He was pulled from his reverie when at the edge of the dance he saw a group of ladies, young and old, looking at him and Elizabeth.
Darcy was used to being the object of idle talk due to his fortune and estate, but the looks on the faces of this group did not appear complimentary.
He was too far from them to hear their words, but their actions were clearly derisive.
His jaw clenched, and he worked to relax before Elizabeth noticed.
She was engaged with the dancers near them, and when she returned her eyes to him he smiled.
Darcy would focus on Elizabeth’s amusement and ignore the on-dits he now perceived coming from another group.
He swallowed. This was expected, but it was not easy.
He had always hated being the object of talk even when it had been appreciative.
He had done all he could to prepare himself to face scorn for his choice, but to have Elizabeth included in the mockery was more difficult than he had anticipated.
Perhaps his upcoming travels to Kent would remove some of the pressure on them.
If the talk was less when he returned, he would declare himself.